Works

SEPTEMBER 1910

(For a Solemn Music)


Out of a silence
The voice of music speaks.

When words have no more power,
When tears can tell no more,
The heart of all regret...

TO T. STURGE MOORE


The years come on, the years go by,
And in my Northern valley I,
Withdrawn from life, watch life go by.
But I have formed within my heart...

The snow had fallen many nights and days;
The sky was come upon the earth at last,
Sifting thinly down as endlessly
As though within the system of blind planets
Something had been forgot or overdriven....